


Crawl Into Your Sleep

by StarLove18



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Don't copy to another site, Don't repost, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Gen, Modern Royalty, Mystery Character(s), Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Pen Pals, Reader-Insert, Sexual Humor, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 17:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarLove18/pseuds/StarLove18
Summary: Good luck doesn’t always come with a charm, nor a shooting star. Be extra careful what you wish for.





	Crawl Into Your Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This fic is dedicated to every reader with Afro-centric features = All shades, shapes and sizes of the chocolate (melanated) variety.
> 
> The language spoken in Wakanda is Xhosa. I'll translate some of these later.

Lord have mercy!

“But Mr. Shaw-”

“No buts! Your focus was stuck on the prevalent societal issues in African Diaspora. I’ve originally asked for a general concept, not this!”

He slammed your research paper back on his desk, right in front of you.

“Forty percent?” You asked, with a mix of desperation and shock in your voice. “This makes no sense.”

Mr. Shaw aimed a pointed glare in your direction. “I am sorry,” he began, careless and monotonous, “but talks about Black Love and Building Black Communities don’t necessarily go together. We don’t even discuss such things in this class.”

That 20-page paper you’ve slaved on for years – ahem, make that two months – had to be rebooted. Why? Your professor was a total jerk, and this has left you empty.

All your efforts, hard work, sacrifices, tearful nights, and shaky social life? You’ve watched it plummet, down to the underground. Perhaps it landed in the center of the Earth because your innermost storms raged on.

Your angered, disgusted, panic-prone state of mind lingered. It grew more challenging to return back to the Green Zone. Yet and still, you needed a brand new change of scenery; one that is aligned with the stars in the universe that watched over you.

As you arrived home (living off-campus), your family wasn’t around. That’s the fourth time this week! You’ve yearned for someone to vent to. Someone who will listen, perhaps give you a hug and a reason to smile again. As you walked up the stairs and entered the kitchen, a large scrap of paper stood out. There, it stuck on the fridge. As you read the message, you rolled your eyes and slammed your clenched fist on the marble island.

Hey darling, there’s meatloaf on the stove. Please don’t hesitate to put it away when you’re done. We’ll be back tomorrow morning… we’re watching The Avengers: Infinity Wars at Aunt Selma’s house, then we’re sleeping over. So space is all yours.

On a final note, no parties! Have a good night.

“Grrr!” You’ve ripped the note to shreds and left a pile on the floor. For the record, you were really looking forward to seeing that movie with your family, yet they had the nerve to forget about you again.

Yesterday, they went to Dad’s Recognition Award Ceremony – without you.

Two days ago, they went to the Block Party that ended at 10pm – without bringing any party favours back.

Three days ago, one of your longtime friends had visited the town and preached a prolific sermon at your local Baptist Church. None of your family members had informed you since your choir sang at another location. As a result, you’ve missed your chances of linking up with Jesse and the crew.

Life hurts too damn much…

You’ve lost your appetite and slumped out of the kitchen. There’s no way they still love you. It’s not possible. Every part of your life seemed unreal these days. You’re just existing, but not living.

“Will things ever get better?” You mumbled.

As you called it a night, tears flooded from your eyes to your satin pillow.

~*~

Meanwhile, in a mission room, King T’Challa stared into a surveillance screen. So far, a handful of soldiers and war dogs were doing rather well with their daring missions. Black women who were faced with marginalization and discrimination at work, school, and within their communities, were being pursued. The spies who were sent out from Wakanda had made good use of The Pen Pal Program. So far, there were no problems. Young men, ranging from ages sixteen to forty-five, posed no problems as they infiltrated many organizations and fit in the mould rather well.

Next up, Types A and B.

T’Challa couldn’t get enough of them, and he didn’t care what anyone thought. Two of their Tumblr pages were opened on separate tabs. Who would’ve thought that opening Wakanda’s borders to the world could result in countless amounts of fan mail and conversations about his king-sized…

“Yo Cuz! I thought you had more important matters to discuss.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes and twisted his neck for emphasis. He’d shut off the screens on his Kimoyo beads immediately. As he glared at his cousin who had the audacity to interrupt his moment, Erik snerked.

The king posed no threat to him.

“I thought you wanted to embark on a new mission, rather than sit here and peep pornmail.”

T’Challa’s eyes could’ve popped out of their sockets, had it not been for M’Baku trailing in with Instagram photos of his current crush.

“I’m planning to buy her published books,” he commented to another party, via speakerphone. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. I would carry an entire bookstore for her when we go on tour…”

Erik had temporarily forgotten about torturing T’Challa and got carried away with M’Baku’s conversation. T’Challa did the same, although he wished for some alone time.

Just as M’Baku noticed the Royals staring at him, he closed his conversation. “I gotta go. Call me when her book signing is announced, kulungile?”

He hung up and returned their gaze.

“What? Can’t a man appreciate intellectual beauty from a distance?”

“Not unless you wanna get close to her.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

M’Baku tucked his plane tickets in his furry armband. “So… concerning this staring contest, what’s wrong with the man downstairs?”

With a nod, M’Baku gestured T’Challa’s compromised position, where a tent made itself known in his trousers. Erik chuckled, fell and rolled on the floor in a fit. As for T’Challa…

“You all got in the way and interrupted my chances of having fun,” he deflected as he faced the glass window before him. T’Challa gave it all to mentally ease his erection. The weight in his trousers dropped some, but Erik’s contagious laughter and the memory of M’Baku’s matter-of-factly comment made this mini-mission harder to accomplish.

Like, damn.

“You’re both in trouble for this!” the king snapped. He wiggled his hips, kicked his foot and spun … King of Pop style. His smile was short-lived, and he needed to get to the bottom of things. He regained his composure and eyed Erik Stevens on the floor.

“Is there anything you wanted to discuss, Prince N’Jadaka?”

Swallowing air, Erik rose, albeit shakily, to his feet. This moment marked one of the best in his book thus far. His features straightened as he spoke.

“This Pen Pal Program you’ve started. Soon, there won’t be enough Wakandan men to protect the country. Then again, I should start training some of them so they will know how to kill unwelcome colonizers and sell their organs-”

“WHOA! Slow your thoughts, young Prince. You’re going too far,” M’Baku interrupted.

“No, I’m not! I’m being honest about our current situation. We must make a profit if we expect our vibranium to be protected.”

“We have The Dora Milaje,” T’Challa said. “You can’t get upset. We’re not running short on our resources.”

“I prefer taking them to the mountains to freeze,” M’Baku added. “They’ll see how consequence is defined.”

“Destroy everything they love,” Erik countered. “That’s the ultimate solution.”

“Those colonizers would label us as monsters,” M’Baku said. “So, if it were possible, let’s teach ‘em old school.”

Erik snerked. “I disagree. Ripping them and their children to shreds-”

M’Baku gripped his staff, cocked an eyebrow and interjected, “You’re not thinking straight, young prince. You still have a lot to learn.”

“Pfft. I’ve already learned how to beat them at their own ga-”

“ENOUGH!”

Both men paused their debate without question. T’Challa pressed the button to the screen of a real person. Your features, hairstyle and assets didn’t lie. Even your tear-stained face, which rested on that satin pillow, glowed beautifully on the screen before them.

“Since M’Baku has plans to meet a published book author, and I have to worry about Types A and B, I need N’Jadaka to visit this young lady.”

Erik rolled his eyes in response. It’s obvious what the King yearned for. He didn’t take the vision of you into consideration – not yet. His thoughts had drifted back to what M’Baku had started earlier, so why not keep it going?

“Masturbation?” he asked, albeit condescending in his tone.

T’Challa huffed and muttered some unfamiliar words to himself. M’Baku, despite his efforts, fell into a fit of laughter. Even he caught on to what a certain royal wanted; what they’ve interrupted.

“You better choose one, instead of two,” M’Baku said between chuckles.

“Hell nah,” Erik chimed in. “Let him have a threesome. One of us will gladly steal the mantle from him when he’s unable to recover.”

M’Baku’s laugh grew harder, so much that Erik fell under the spell himself.

“A fivesome would do him justice!” his cousin blurted.

“Sweet, then we’ll do ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’ to determine who takes over Wakanda until he heals,” M’Baku added with a shrug. “Well, if he heals…”

At this point, T’Challa has had enough. Insulting his intelligence is just… ugh… there should be a law against this! Amidst their laughter, the others rambled on about his assumed inabilities to hang and eat a woman out. His fists balled at his sides when his necklace activated his Black Panther suit. Without warning, he lunged at Erik and tackled the prince to the floor.

That’s all it took to stop things from going any further.

Erik found himself in a new predicament: Caught in T’Challa’s headlock, flat on the floor, with a straight face. His deportment no longer resembled a class clown. He regained the hard hat, ice cold expression of a lost prince who sought revenge. Not that any of that truly mattered anymore, but still.  “Okay, okay, you fucking win.” He tapped out, but T’Challa didn’t let him go. Not yet.

“That young lady in the video display,” he spoke with derision, “she’s lonely and needs someone right now. There’s no more time for games.”

Erik smirked, despite his current position. “I can teach her how to kill a colonizer. Mission accep-”

“N’Jadaka,” T’Challa tightened his grip, his voice dipped dangerously low. “That’s not what I meant. You’re going to reach out to her. You’ve grown up outside of Wakanda, and pursued most of your education over there. She’s struggling with disruptions from every corner. If you can’t help her, I’ll send someone else in your place and cancel your War Dog Trainer duties for a month.”

Erik growled and snapped, “Fine! I’ll get to it, as long as you don’t interfere with my students.”

Behind the mask, T’Challa smirked. “Good. We’ll send you over there tomorrow.”

He’d let go. Erik rubbed his throat, rose to his feet and croaked one more underhanded comment.

“Get the lotion, kleenex and shoe. It will help a bunch.”

Another growl sent a mischievous Erik running for his life, out of the mission room with a furious T’Challa on his tail.

M’Baku stood alone, rolled his eyes and shook his head. It’s a blessing and a curse, how miraculous – and detrimental – the dynamic between royal cousins was. “I’ve forgotten to ask them if they were done,” he muttered to himself. The tall warrior activated his kimoyo beads and laid eyes on the chocolate beauty he admired. His eyes sparkled as her smile dominated the screen. He peeped the name of the author in question.

“Hm. T’Challa had better come back in here so I can finalize th-”

An incoming phone call buzzed on his kimoyo beads. He answered.

“Lord M’Baku,” a baritone male voice spoke, “Her next Book Signing is next week. I hope this helps.”

“Details, please.”

“Saturday, the second weekend of November. Takes place at a five-star hotel in Philadelphia. Your plane tickets should indicate-”

“That is all, Dorian,” M’Baku responded. “Thank-you. Report your latest mission progress.”

“Ten branches of Black-owned banks were opened in five states, followed by Youth Leadership Programs designed for participants, aged sixteen to twenty-four. There’s also an abundance of positive influencers, outside of Georgia’s HBCUs.”

M’Baku smiled. “Perfect. I’ll get in touch with the others, and see if a select few can take the risk in Chicago.”

“Why Chicago?” asked Dorian.

“Because that’s one of the places where the Black Community is tangled in shambles and barbwire. I will relocate strong-willed spies over there soon.”

“Kuya kwenziwa.”

“Kulungile. Masihlale sigxile. Hanuman abe nawe.”

“Ngokufanayo, Nkosi M’Baku.”

*Click*

Upon dismissing the call, a flustered and spent T’Challa re-entered the mission room with shoelaces and splotches of Shea Butter on his clothes, his hair and garments.

M’Baku raised an eyebrow and said nothing. There was no need. Both cousins had their silly ways and it often left him with a  _pauvre-vous_  view of them.

“Tsk tsk tsk.” The Jabari leader shook his head as his chocolate features screwed on a look of disgust.

“Don’t blame me. He has set up some messy traps in my office and my quarters.”

“Mm-hmm,” M’Baku snorted. “Princess Shuri is more mature than the both of you for… this.”

T’Challa raised an eyebrow and shot a disdainful look in M’Baku’s direction, but the taller man didn’t flinch.

“Petunia.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes and raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, I give up. At least I don’t have to deal with my rowdy cousin tomorrow.”

~*~

“I’d lur. I’d lur- I’d lu… Damn it! Why can’t I say it properly?” Erik stormed through his bedroom door and paced in circles in the main hall.

“It could be your piercing,” Shuri responded from her room. “You might want to get that tongue checked for a possible infection.”

Erik froze, shook his head in a fit and snapped, “Shut it, Cuz! Nobody asked for your opinion!”

“How long has it been there?” Shuri pressed; her voice echoed from her room door that was cracked slightly open.

“None of your concern!”

“You should calm your nerves before you pop a blood vessel.”

“You should shut it before the Jabberwocky shows up.”

“You should-”

“Silence!”

Erik cleared his throat and turned to face Queen Ramonda. He smirked.

“Hey Auntie.”

The Queen Mother’s eyes narrowed as she stared in her nephew’s eyes. “You will not mess up on this mission.” Her eyebrows perked up. “Understand?”

Erik nodded like a child when Shuri interrupted the moment and blurted, “I never knew you’ve ended up making a fake Tumblr account. It doesn’t phase me that countless bras and panties have responded to your one and only post… wait, you’ve asked prospective followers to toss their undergarments at y-”

“FUCK OFF MY BUSINESS!”

“WATCH YOUR MOUTH!” Queen Ramonda snapped. “Shuri, I thought you were going to organize your lesson plans.”

A gulp was heard from her room. Erik smirked. Serves her right. One look at his aunt, however, and the smirk vanished instantaneously.

“How about I finish packing?” he said as he stepped backwards towards his room. It wasn’t a wise idea to do otherwise, especially when the Queen was around. He knew better.

~*~

_“Looking for some lovin’? It’s comin’. Consider this my tease; your foreplay.” – Prince N’Jadaka_

This note has found your locker the following morning at school. That’s strange… this had to be some silly joke. A cruel, honest joke. Well…

The back of the pink paper read,  _Don’t even think about ripping this apart. Can’t a man stay true to his feelings for once?_

Now your mind took a spin. Of course, this can’t be real! Some idiot had tried to pull a silly prank – making friends wasn’t an issue, but dealing with fakes was. You’ve already reached your boiling point with those types of people since high school… yet, they still exist in the adult world.

Without hesitation, you dashed towards the library, checked in a few books, and took a seat at your favourite desktop computer. Shortly after signing in to your account, a notification popped up on the taskbar.

‘That’s strange, you thought. ‘I wonder what’s up.’

Hoping that this was an error, you moved the cursor on the screen and clicked the notification tab. Somebody wanted to talk to you?

That’s funny. Your day has gotten weirder by the minute. Before you had the chance to respond back with a rejection message, the messenger added:

_I’m right around the corner… nearing your spot. Yes, this is real, and it is me._

You froze. The name at the very bottom read,

_Erik Stevens, for the record._

Hell nah. There’s no way this could happen. The messages kept flooding in with hearts and random emojis. Your pulse competed with Roadrunner at this point, when the next message read:

_Relax, ma. I’m not going to hurt you. Just calm down a little, aight? I can hear your heartbeat from here. Never meant to scare ya._

You took a deep breath.

Inhale…

Exhale. Inhale…

Exhale. Inhale…

Exhale.

No more messages.

Wakanda is a fictional place based in Africa, so how was it possible for you to get letters in your locker and on your computer account?

_Save your breath, babe. I got you._

Damn it! You slammed your fist on the keyboard like it was your worst enemy. If it wasn’t for your melanin content, your face would look red cherry right about now.

In less than ten seconds, people peered in your direction, as they tried their hardest to figure out what’s wrong with you. Normally, you don’t act this way in the school library. You never did. Today had a soothing, yet scary vibe attached to it. You weren’t too sure if this problem was a real event or a mere hallucination. Instead, you’ve heard a chuckle roll out from behind you.

Not too close, but not so far.

Willing yourself not to turn around, you stretched your fingers and focused on another assignment you had to hand in soon. The rest of the hour went by smoothly; as soon as you’ve finalized and saved your work on the USB drive, the message notification popped up in the taskbar again.

_‘Meet me at the coffee shop, and I’ll take you on a shopping spree after school.’ – Erik_

You heaved a dreadful sigh. If he is real, what exactly did he want from you, and why?

Erik wasn’t having it. Not anymore. Your refusal to respond back to any of his messages was quite the downer at first. Now he had to pick things up a notch.

“I’ma fetch her quicker than a dog. Almost broke my cover, there. How much longer before her classes end?”

Might as well stalk you in the shadows until the opportunity to snatch you presented itself.

~*~

The craziness, hustle and bustle of the day flew right by. This had felt different, without a doubt, but then your memory banks clicked.

The coffee shop…

You’ve trotted to your locker, grabbed your belongings, and made headway for the big doors at the entrance when a hand tapped your shoulder.

You spun in response to being met by Dresden. The last guy you wanted to see.

“What do you want?” You asked in your lowest voice, monotonous.

“Aww babe, you know just how much I’ve missed you! I could use another chance, ya dig? We can make a go for the coffee shop. Tab’s on me.”

Both his big hands clasped your shoulders. “Whaddya say?”

You rolled your eyes. This is the same dude who had, two? No, make that five. Matter of fact, ten… like hell, eleven side pieces! Last year, you’ve dated him for three months before getting jumped by three of his other girlfriends on your way home from the library one evening.

You broke it off and avoided him at all costs. He couldn’t be trusted, and there were several women who also shared the same sentiment.

~Iza Kuqhubeka~


End file.
